The Middle of Nowhere
by Eric Draven201
Summary: A simple kidnapping case spirals into mystery and intrigue when Dante finds that the residents of a small town aren't all they appear to be. Rated for violence and language.
1. Have you seen her?

**A/N:** _Now I have questioned whether it is prudent to publish this story now... especially with all these kidnappings going. Then I realized... I can't exactly let current events dictate my thoughts and work._

**Disclaimers: - **_Of course I don't own DMC... who would write fan fics if they did?_

- _This is not poke fun at any of the people who reside in the small towns of Charles County, MD. I always say things about the places that surround where I live. (Besides, in my area of town, I'm pretty sure that you could sneeze and fall out to the other side.)_

_Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

The Middle of Nowhere

Chapter 1: Have you seen her?

Darkness was all Joe saw. As far as he could tell, he was tied up and left for dead. He could hear an engine purr to life. There were the sudden bumps, thumps and turns that cemented the belief that he was in the trunk of a car. Joe struggled against his restraints, but his hands and feet were far too numb to be of any use. He tried to scream, but his mouth was duct taped shut as well.

All that could be done was listening to what was around him. Just at his head, was the distinct sound of liquid splashing against is hard plastic container. Its pungent odor wafted into his nostrils. _Oh, my God_, he thought, _is that gasoline?! Am I going to be burned alive?!_

Metal clanked at his feet. To him, it could have been anything. It was oddly comforting for him to believe it was tire iron or some other roadside tool. Joe heard something else that sent him into a deeper state of distress. No, it wasn't another object that could have been used as a torture tool. It was the faint sound of the driver _singing_. It was definitely a male voice and wasn't offensive to the ears. Did it scare him more of the possibility that the driver could be oblivious to his presence or the fact that his future murderer was so calm?

Joe tried to think long and hard about how he got here. The only way to put it was that Death came for him tonight and he had lily-white hair and wore a red leather trench coat.

--

Joe walked up to the bar and ordered the cheapest beer they had. He was a simple man with simple tastes. Joe mainly kept to himself even in very public settings like this bar. This may have been directly attributed to the fact that he wasn't much of a looker. His baby face had oily skin and his fair share of acne. His round, chubby face was framed by ear-length raven hair. His flabby physique left much to be desired and all but killed his self-esteem. Still he was not hounded or harassed, he was left to his own devices. On boring days like today, he'd find himself thinking, _I wish something would come along to shake things up._ Oh, how he'd soon come to regret that.

That's when he saw a man in red enter the bar with a swagger that exuded supreme confidence. His expressionless face had 'bad-ass-motherfucker' stamped on it. This and his flamboyant clothes were not something one would see everyday in this small Maryland town.

Joe was seated at the far end of the "U" shaped bar, just in front of where the red clad man claimed a stool. Joe could not keep his eyes off the strange man. He watched as the man ordered a strawberry sundae and a double shot of bourbon. There the man sat with the odd combination that kept him suspended somewhere between adulthood and childhood. The man looked up; his piercing blue eyes meeting Joe's browns. The man's glare forced him to look away. Joe continued to carefully look on as the man chatted with the other barflies around him and the bartender. He then pulled out a small photo and passed it along asking, "Have you see this girl?"

Each time the man in red received a, "Nope. Sorry. Ain't seen her around these parts." Could Enzo have been wrong again? "Thanks anyway," he replied. The man took his picture back, paid his tab and left.

Joe was still nursing his bottle of cheap beer. He took a final swig of the bitter-tasting drink. Joe slapped a five down on counter called out over the lousy jukebox music, "Later, Nance. Goodnight, Ed." He walked past a neon sign that held the unappetizing name of the bar, 'The Rusty Bucket'. Joe stepped out of the 'Bucket' and began walking into the cool night air.

Joe knew these mean streets better than anyone. In fact, there wasn't much going on here in La Plata. He was sure that this town isn't marked on any map. The only visitors that passed through were lost due to bad directions from Map Quest.

Joe walked along until he was stopped by a smooth voice, "Hey, you're the guy who was across from me in that bar, right?"

"Yeah," Joe's voice was a little uneasy. He turned to face the voice. The man before him stood at about six feet four inches. The man's pale face held youthful features, but his hair was white as snow. He had a wiry, muscular build, not that of a body builder's. His bright red coat wisped behind him in the breeze like a cape.

Joe wasn't thin, nor was he a short man; if he had any faith in himself, he would have believed that he would have been able to take him. The platinum haired man shouldn't have intimidated him. Still the man's features reminded him of the vampire in the horror movies he collected. Joe nearly pissed his pants when he thought the man before him was a blood-sucking creature of the night.

"I must have missed you back at the bar," Dante said to the dark haired man in front of him, "Have you seen her?" Dante handed Joe the photo from earlier. It was a little red headed girl with big, bright green eyes.

The words were simple but it echoed in Joe's mind. Have you seen her? Of course he had. A day doesn't go by where he stops thinking about that kid. She was in a parking lot, screaming her head off. Crying for her mama and begging for her teddy bear. Her cries fell on deaf ears when her 'escort' scooped her up and put her into a white van. They probably took her to that place on the grassy hill just on the outskirts of town. Ever since he was little, he was always told people went there and never returned... No questions asked. Everyone else otherwise pretended that they never existed. That's how things were supposed to go around here.

He wanted to tell... to say _something_, but he was advised to keep his mouth shut. "Go about your business as usual," They told him and he obeyed. You never wanted to get Them angry or else they'd send you to that place on the hill. There must be a reason why they set up shop in this little Podunk town.

"No," Joe lied as he stroked his almost non-existent goatee.

"Have you _seen _her," Dante repeated his voice a little less friendly as he sensed the young man's lie.

"Hey, man... Why do you care? Kids go missing everyday."

"I make it my business to care. Pity," Dante said tilting his head to the side, "and I thought I'd finally found someone who would be honest with me."

"Wait! Wha—"

"You heard me. There's nothing I hate more than liars." Dante pulled Ivory from her holster.

"Hey—," sweat was beading on Joe's brow.

Dante held the hand gun down to his side and walked casually towards Joe, "Anything you want to say?"

He hesitated just before he pulled out a switchblade and lunged at the man. Pa always told him to defend himself. The blade sunk in deeply earning a sickening squish. He stepped back in disbelief at what he had done. After all, Joe had just quite possibly inflicted a life threatening injury on a man.

Dante growled, "You piss me off. Always gotta make things complicated." Dante glanced down at the hilt buried in his chest, slid the knife out with ease and dropped it on the floor.

"Dude... What are you," Joe whispered, barely comprehending how the man had stopped bleeding. _He really is a vampire!_

"A little of this, a little of that. You know what? I don't have time for this!" Dante made a move to grab Joe, but he managed to turn tail and run. "I hate it when they run," Dante said with a dramatic sigh just before holstering Ivory and giving chase.

In all of his life Joe had never run so fast. Someone once told him that a sense of danger always gave one a little extra boost. He never really believed it... until now. Joe glanced back to see that Dante was about ten yards behind him. Dante leapt high up into the air. When Joe glanced back again, he saw that the man chasing him was gone. He was completely oblivious to the attack from above. He ran a few more feet before stopping to catch his breath. Joe crouched over with his hands on his knees then stood up slowly realizing it was _too_ quiet.

In the same moment, Dante suddenly crashed on top of the young man. He quickly hopped off, limping away and back. "DAMMIT! Note to self, never do that again." He came closer to the man still lying on the ground. "Hey, guy... You okay," he questioned as he approached slowly. "Hey, dude," this time Dante poked him. He was rewarded with Joe flailing his arms screaming, "Don't eat me!" The man's sudden outburst made Dante take a few steps back in surprise.

"Kid," Dante called again.

Silence.

"Aw, fuck!" Dante had only wanted information about the little girl. He had only wanted to scare the guy a little and he had only wanted to stop the guy from running, not to knock him out! How was he going to explain this? _Sorry officer, the guy ran away, so I knocked him the fuck out._ Dante took a careful look around to make sure there were no witnesses. When he was sure there were none, he hefted Joe over his shoulder and walked back to his car. He was going to get that information out of him yet.

--

They had come to a stretch of a particularly bumpy road. Joe didn't have to see it to know that he was on the unpaved road near Pope's Creek. A few moments later the car came to a stop. The trunk creaked open, "Good morning, sunshine." The first things he saw were the beautiful night sky and the murderous gleam in Dante's eyes. Joe instantly started sobbing. "Aww... Don't be such a pussy," Dante said in mock consolation, "Take it like a man." This garnered more whimpers from Joe.

Dante turned his attention to two plastic garden chairs sitting on the edge of the rocks. "Don't go anywhere," Dante said sweetly. The man was too scared to move. Later, he returned with the chairs and set them face to face, towards the end of the pier. He then came back for Joe and a length of rope. He picked the man up as if he didn't weigh anything at all. Dante sat the man down on the chair. He tied Joe down with the rope. It wasn't too tight nor was it loose. Upon noticing that the man's wrists and ankles were turning red, Dante produced Joe's switchblade and cut his old duct tape restraints. "Sorry... I think I got a little overzealous."

Dante went back to his car and returned with a red, plastic gas can. He then poured some of the contents on Joe and the rest encircling his chair. Joe began crying more.

A shrill ringing sound came from Dante's coat pocket. He produced a cell phone and looked at the screen. "It's my wife... Sorry I have to take this." A macabre concept, always take your wife's calls before torture.

"Honey! What are you doing up so early?"

"Ginny's up and she has something to say," Lady's voice was so excited.

"Put her on the phone," Dante was just as excited.

He could hear them fumbling on the other end as Lady put the phone to the toddler's ear. She started babbling before she finally said, "Da! Da! Dada!" Lady took the phone back and she could practically tell that he was almost to the point of tears. "I'm her first word?" Dante said it in almost disbelief. "Can you get that on camera?"

"Already done, Sweetheart. I figured that you were already on the case... but I thought this would make your day."

"It has. Thanks babe... I'll talk to you later. Buh-bye." Dante ended his call and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

"Can you believe it kid? My daughter just said her first word just now. You wanna see a picture of her?"

Joe started whimpering in fear again.

"Maybe later then."

"Shhh... If you promise not to scream, I'll take off your gag... okay?"

The man nodded.

Dante removed the duct tape from Joe's mouth. He then sat backwards in the chair across from Joe.

"So kid," Dante began his 'icebreaker,' "What's your name."

"Joe," it came out as a chocked back sob.

"Hiya, Joe... My name is Dante," he was eerily cheerful.

"Ar-are you gonna kill me... drink my blood?"

Dante laughed. A cruel reaction to what Joe thought were valid questions. "No... I'm not a vampire and as far as anyone knows we are two guys enjoying the sunrise. Now..." Dante licked his dry lips in a very joker-esque kind of way. "... Have you seen little Sarah?" Dante held the photo out so that Joe could see.

"Yes," Joe was near tears again, "Three days ago... Near the Piggly-Wiggly."

"Great! We're making progress. What happened to her?"

Joe closed his eyes tight and began to spill, "It was only for a moment, but a man dressed in white, wearing some dark glasses was walking her out of the store. Then she started cryin', 'I want my mama.' The man must have noticed that people were staring, so he picked her up and put her in a white van."

"Who was the man, Joe?"

"Near as I can tell, he was one of those men on the hill. Every so often they have a celebration and someone from town disappears and everyone pretends that they were never there to begin with. You go to the hill... you never come back. Lately, they've been takin' outsiders to the hill, leavin' us-folks alone."

"Do you know what happens there?"

"No. They hardly ever come to town unlessin' someone makes trouble fer them. "

Dante produced a cigarette and lit it, taking long drags as he processed the information.

"What does that group call themselves?"

"The Eighty Eight. Something to do with the constellations or something."

"You've done well kid," Dante said as he flicked his cigarette near the gas can. Joe slammed his eyes shut and started screaming, expecting to be engulfed in fames. He stopped when he realized that Dante had cut his restraints and the cigarette had fizzled out.

"Uh... Why am I not on fire," Joe questioned with a very confused look on his face.

Dante laughed again. "That was never gasoline. Gas is way too fuckin' expensive to do all that!"

"What is it?"

"Saltwater and vinegar." Dante laughed even harder.

"Wha—? You're letting me go."

"Yeah kid... looks that way. The catch is that since you're from around, you have to help me in getting the 'Eighty-Eight'."

"You a cop or something..."

"No. Sarah's family hired me to find her."

"Who's to say _I _won't go to the police?"

"You won't, because, I'll be watching you." Joe looked down to see that his wrists were returning to their original color and that it was no longer tingling. He looked up to see that the sun rising on the horizon and that Dante was gone. _Maybe he really is a vampire, _he thought.

* * *

_"Piggly-wiggly" is the name of a gocery store chain from the Southern United States. To my knowledge... one does not exist in La Plata... but there is a "Bi-Lo"_

_Has anyone ever thought that Dante could play the part of a maniacal serial torturer? Okay, maybe that's just me. Any who... Review?_

_(EDIT) I really have no idea where to go from here, so could you all please lend me some help... maybe a betareader? _


	2. Heart of the Problem

_Ha! I iz back and sporting what my sister has dubbed the Vergil Bush (use your imagination, but keep your mind out of the gutter). I assure you that it's not by choice, but just something my hair starting doing on its own after I got a haircut._

_Okay… enough of my hair issues… on with the story that I almost let die!_

* * *

Chapter 2: Heart of the Problem

"Please sir," a woman with blonde hair and brown roots pleaded from across the massive cherry finished desk, "You _have_ to find her." She clutched a small photograph until the muscles in her hands twitched from the tension. Her body went rigid before her chest loosened with a heave and the subsequent sobs. A pair of scrawny arms held the woman from behind in an attempt to quell her wailing cries.

Dante peered over the manila folder that neatly filed away the life of the child in question. He cocked a curious eyebrow at the woman's overly dramatic sniffles. The look on his face clearly told that he was completely uncomfortable with the situation. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he gave a small, exasperated sigh and said, "Look, I'm sorry, but there's no way that I can take your case. Our _agency_ doesn't deal in this type of work."

"But you don't _understand_," the voice came from the man who belonged to skinny arms, "we _can't_ take this elsewhere."

He came off a little more forceful than intended, but it got Dante's attention. The man had been completely quiet during the consultation, until now. Even with inflection that he gave, Dante was hardly threatened by him. The fair-haired hunter estimated the balding, ginger haired man before him to stand at about six feet tall and an unassuming one hundred-seventy pounds. No, the man couldn't take Dante, even if he tried.

But his eyes, sparkling emeralds burned with a passion that only a father could have for a child that hung in the balance. He knew the feeling, since he became one nearly two years ago. He would do almost anything in the world for his daughter. He truly understood how the man felt and he definitely felt worse for turning him away.

Dante had seen these types of cases before. A child goes missing, the family appears on the nightly news, detectives lose the lead and case goes cold. It was a sad cycle, but the reality was that hundreds of thousands of children went missing each year. Dante knew that if he stopped to look for each lost child that came across his desk, there would be no way he could control the demon population as well.

Dante's eyes dropped back to the file. It was complete with photos and detailed descriptions of the girl who had just celebrated her sixth birthday. It was compiled by detectives, hired both privately and by the metropolitan police department in desperate hopes of finally solving this one. He then grimly thought about how the girl's entire six years of life fit squarely on two sheets of paper and a few pictures. It's a crying shame, but this file may just be among the only mementos they'll ever have of their child.

The woman let out another loud sob that brought him out of his reverie. Dante promptly handed her the last of his Kleenexes and turned back to the man.

"I'm really sorry," he offered once again.

"I heard that you handled the really strange cases," the man said quietly, ignoring Dante's no's, "the ones that not even the police will touch."

"Where did you hear that," the question came from Dante in a calm and calculating tone. He eyed the man until his sapphire orbs met with the other's gleaming emeralds.

"I don't know, but the man said to keep talking and you'll hit the _jackpot_ sooner or later."

_Damn that Enzo._ There was almost nothing he could do now to push them away; they just gave him the password. But something still didn't add up. Why would Enzo give the password to a simple missing person's case?

"There's something important that you've kept from the police," Dante sensed.

"My daughter is not a victim to a simple kidnapping, she was taken by demons."

Dante straightened in his chair and leaned closer, wanting to hear more.

"They came in the middle of the night, wailing like banshees and wielding scythes and pairs of great scissors. Their faces looked as if they were masks wrought with agony. Before we had known what had happened, dozens more appeared out of nowhere and scooped up our little girl. We never told because no one would believe. I mean... we scarcely believe it ourselves."

Dante had deduced that the first two lesser demons the man spoke about were Sin Scythes and Sin Scissors, but he still needed to know more. Dante then found a calm voice amidst his rapidly swirling thoughts. In a strange soothing fashion he coaxed more answers out of the grief-stricken couple, "What else did you see?"

As the couple alternately described the horrible creatures that invaded their home, Dante's mind went to work at construe their names.

"Well," the woman pushed back her sobs and spoke up, "One of them let out a mighty bellow as it appeared in a blood red light. It was covered in fur with sharp claws on its hands and feet. Come to think about it, it was more like an animal standing on its hind quarters."

_Blood Goat_.

The balding man then said, "One looked like a skeleton with glowing red eyes dressed in a black cloak. It was all in tatters. It carried a staff, if I remember correctly. When I went to grab our little Sarah, it let out an ear-splitting roar... it felt like I was being hit by a wall of wind and sand."

_Gluttony_.

The three went on and spoke more about the circumstances of the girl's disappearance as Dante mentally took note of the plethora of demons they seemed to describe. Small fry, the lot of them. The problem was who would go through the trouble of summoning them; all for capturing a little girl?

He kept it in the back of his mind as the conversation continued. The conversation concluded with a firm handshake from Dante and Trish pulling them aside to discuss payment options. A dirty practice to some, especially to an emotionally distraught family, but very necessary. Devil May Cry had to find some way to keep that large, pink neon sign on, outside.

Dante took his leave of the couple, leaving the business aspects to Trish. He bounded towards the metal grated stairs and the upper living quarters. As he neared the top of the stairs, the pitter-patter of little feet echoed down the hallway and a small body sprung up against the white crisscrossed gates meant to keep curious toddlers at bay. Dante stepped over the three and quarter foot tall security fence. A pair of ice blue eyes, much like his own, gazed up at him as she let out some high pitched grunts, "Unh, unh."

Without any words, he knew what she wanted. _Up_. She wanted to be picked up. Lately, Trish had been gorging herself on information about the development of toddlers. She even felt the need to share with Dante that his daughter should be speaking already. The sharp words came, to which his response was, "She'll talk when she's good and ready… and no more internet for you."

He scooped up his daughter as he playfully growled, "Here comes the baby monster. Mmmm. Nom, nom, nom, nom!"

She giggled and squealed in delight as her father pretended to eat her and blew raspberries on her belly. He carried her off to her room where he started a DVD of _Elmo's World_. He sat her down on the floor in front of the TV where she began humming in rhythm of the opening theme song. Dante counted on a stealthy exit just as the toddler became enamored by the singing red furball… Or so he thought.

Just as he stood, he noticed the iron grip of the tiny hands that held him in place. He had to admit that for a baby, his daughter was strong… very strong.

"She's going give trouble to whoever crosses her," he mused aloud. Not to mention that she would be hell to spar with once she gets older.

Dante sat back down, obeying the toddler's will. Before he knew it she was in his lap, playing his platinum hair. _At least she has graduated from trying to _eat_ my hair_, he thought to himself.

She continued to watch the screen, quiet and no longer scrutinizing Dante's ivory hair. After a few more episodes on the DVD, she had already drifted off into the dream world. As if on cue, Lady stepped into the doorway to witness the precious scene unfold before her.

"Help. Please?" Dante whispered, sensing her presence. He dared not to move a muscle as he held his daughter. She was a light sleeper, she inherited that and her raven colored hair from her mother. Dante on the other hand, slept like a rock. Not even the mightiest storms could rouse him, if he didn't want to be.

"Oh, no, buddy… you're on your own with that," she half whispered and half chuckled.

Dante let out a sigh in mock defeat. "I take it that you took the job," Lady continued whispering.

"Yeah. I'll have to leave in the morning," Dante sounded unenthused. As soon as the word left his mouth, the toddler let out a small whine and snuggled closer Dante's chest.

"So soon?"

"The sooner, the better. The last detective on the case tracked a lead to Maryland. I think that Enzo would agree that I should begin there."

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Of course. I saw the look in her father's eyes. They told me that he would be willing to do anything in his power to get his daughter back, just like I'd anything for Virginia here. But I did see fear in his eyes and I couldn't tell why."

"Well, most people would be on edge if they were attacked by demons as they say they were."

"Yeah, but still… some things about this don't add up. Why a little girl from New York and nowhere else? Her parents aren't famous and they most certainly aren't rich. If they had money, she could afford a better dye job. They don't even seem to be the type to dabble in the Dark Arts."

"Well, not everyone is my father," Lady half-joked, almost sardonically. She had made her peace with it long ago, but Dante could still see that it was a sore spot.

He continued, "I can't help but to feel like this is going to turn into a wild goose chase or …"

"… A trap," Lady finished Dante's ramblings.

"We will see, won't we," gave a joyless grin as he gingerly picked up Virginia and placed her in her crib.

----

Dante stretched and yawned, trying to find the will to peel himself off of the shabby-looking motel bed he laid on. It wasn't the most comfortable thing to lie on and he shuddered to think about what lurid acts may have been committed on its very mattresses; but it was somewhere to lay his weary head. On the plus side, he got free HBO, all for a cool thirty bucks a night. It was the best part about living out of 'No-tell' motels when his job put him on the road.

The platinum haired slayer scratched at his five o' clock shadow that seemed to be at a quarter to six. He tiredly staggered into the bathroom to start yet another day of searching for a kid from the East Village.

----

By that afternoon, Joe found himself at his part-time job at a local video store. They hardly ever see customers anymore, not since a video chain opened in nearby Waldorf. Joe enjoyed the slow shift. There was less work to do and the owner had left to pick up his sick kid from school.

The clock on the wall ticked closer to quitting time, which meant that he was that much closer to meeting up with the guys at the bar. Sure they weren't exactly any friends of his, but he felt at home there. It was much better than that hovel he dared to call an apartment.

He glanced up at the clock, growing more excited that there was only three more hours until he would rid himself of his 'back busting work'. He pulled out a comic book and slumped into a comfortable position. Just as he getting into a particular action scene, the front door swung open and chime sounded, letting Joe know that he had a customer; only the third in the entire day.

He looked up to greet whoever made him lose his place, but saw no one. He figured that the damned door alarm was broken and continued eyeing the pages for the panel he left off at. After a few moments more, he was once again steeped in his comic world. As his generic superhero pounded the 'bad guys' across the pages, the more he forgot about the previous night.

Well, not exactly forget... More like repress. Joe believed that if he kept his mind busy, he could push away the images of the man that kidnapped him. Sure, he thought about going to the police, but who would believe that a crazed creature of the night was after him. Then there was the fact that he lived in a small town. So small in fact, that there was hardly any privacy.

And why was he so concerned with it? As much of a 'scardy-cat' that Joe was; he was no fool. He knew that once someone did something, someone else would mention it in polite conversation. Then it would be on the lips of someone else and before long it will become a rumor; spreading like disease or wildfire. As always with the rumors, the people will form their own opinions and then the labels. And Joe hated the labels.

He knew of all people, he couldn't handle the finger pointing and whispers. It would be enough for him to move out of the town that he called home for almost twenty-four years.

Places like here, had their own set of laws and the nosy neighbors were the enforcers, not the sheriffs. The small town rule preyed on a person's sense of shame. The shame here was not an internal motivator, but rather external. It was the only reason that kept the residents from robbing the local bank or knocking over a convince store. They didn't fear the threat of jail time, but rather, what their neighbors thought of them. And isn't that the universal edict of a small town: To be a good neighbor? Screw all of that talk of Big Brother watching, nothing's scarier than Grandma's small town eyes.

By Joe's set of rationales, the police weren't an option. Going to them would probably single him out and open him up to ridicule and a chance of being snatched the people on the hill. He thought if he just ignored the problem, it would go away. But he didn't know just how wrong he'd be.

Joe paused at another panel when he heard the unmistakable thump of a video cassette hitting the glass display case he sat behind.

"Got any popcorn," the voice of the would-be customer asked the man behind the comic book.

Joe glanced at the tape and wondered briefly, _who watches VHS anymore?_ He instead replied, "Nope. Might'n wanna try the Piggly-Wiggly, the Walmart across the highway or the video place in Waldorf."

The customer didn't respond; gave no indication whether he was offended or otherwise. "So just the movie then," Joe questioned as he moved to ring up the item.

Joe kept his eyes on the display case and the movie as he tossed the comic aside. Pappy always told him that it was best to keep his head low. They'll s_tick to their own parts and leave alone to mine._

Just inside of his periphery, Joe noticed a slight flutter of red. Fear overcame his body as his chestnut eyes slowly rose to capture the looming figure dressed in red.

_No! No, it can't be_, he thought as he caught sight of that devilish grin that rivaled that of the Cheshire Cat.

"What? Did you think that I wouldn't keep an eye out for you," Dante said.

With those words, Joe's body began to react without keeping his brain in the loop. He first began to babble incoherently, before he legs became nothing more than rubber. His brain shutdown and he became nothing more than dead weight lying on the floor.

Dante eyed the limp figure and sighed, "Just my luck… The only person with an idea where Sarah went is this dumbass on the floor." Dante shook his head at his lack of survival instinct. Joe's Fight or Flight reaction was set to 'pass out.'

He rounded the display case and schlepped the chubby man over his shoulder and picked up the black and white copy of _Bram Stoker's Dracula_ that lay near the discarded comic book. Dante tossed Joe into the front seat of his rent-a-car and buckled him in.

"Kid… the things you know had better be worth it," sneered and he closed the car door.

Dante hopped into the driver seat and drove off towards the hill.

* * *

_Let's call that first chapter part of my occasional lapses in sanity. Thank you for putting up with me. Did you like it? Or would you rather I burned it?_


End file.
